


Hold My Heart

by Awriterwrites, phdmama



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Airplane, Blow Jobs, Doctor Harry, Famous Louis, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mile High Club, Non-Famous Harry, Smut, Sort of? - Freeform, actually, but oh so loveable, flight, love at first fuck, love at first suck, smut in the air, there's a lot of sucking, these characters are saps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9281468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/pseuds/phdmama
Summary: “Excuse me, mate, I’m the window seat here.” The voice was soft, apologetic, and accented in something a bit unfamiliar — northern England, maybe, Harry thought.“Oh,” Harry jumped to his feet and moved aside, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing there.”The other man laughed as he swung a bag into the overhead compartment and slid into the seat. “You were well caught up in that book, mate. What are you reading?”Harry paused, wondering how to explain the fact that he was reading an epic and x-rated romance that was the story of a relationship between a prince and the man he’d enslaved. “Oh, you know, just some fiction my sister recommended.” He turned to look at the man and froze.Sitting next to him was Louis Tomlinson.***Or, the one where famous Louis Tomlinson offers his hand and a lot more  to his seat mate on a transatlantic flight.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kikikryslee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikikryslee/gifts).



> Based on this prompt from the lovely @kikikryslee: Harry is taking a flight home and his ticket gets randomly upgraded to first class. His seat is next to Louis, who is a famous.
> 
> Thanks to the amazing @twopoppies for all of her incredible insight and eye for detail and to @dimpled-halo for her meticulous editing. Love you both to pieces.

_I never thought that_

_You would be the one to hold my heart_

_But you came around_

_And you knocked me off the ground from the start_

_You put your arms around me_

_And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go_

_You put your arms around me and I'm home_

_-Christina Perri, Arms_

 

Harry looked up from his Kindle as the heated discussion at the ticketing desk turned to full blown shouting. A frenzied looking woman was fuming as she snapped at the hapless agent, “My daughter is _two years old_ , I’m sorry, do you really think separating her from her mother for a ten and a half hour flight is a good idea? You really think subjecting some of your other customers to that is a _good idea_?”

The agent snapped back, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but it’s twenty minutes before boarding, and you’re just checking in now, there are no two seats together. I’m not sure what you want me to do.” She gestured angrily at the crowded waiting area. “All of these people already checked in, they already got their assigned seats, I’m sorry, I can’t ask someone to give up an aisle or window seat because you didn’t plan ahead.”

Harry sighed. It was two days before Christmas, LAX was packed, and tempers were running hot. Looking around, he could see tired looking families loaded to the eyeballs with carry-on items and squirmy children. There were several harried looking business travelers typing on laptops, tablets, and cell phones and the entire waiting area had a frenzied, over-stressed, exhausted, pre-holiday feel to it. Harry was oddly comforted that he wasn’t the only one not overly excited to be traveling during one of the busiest times of the year.

He was heading to London for a conference. Even though it started on Dec. 26th — shitty timing — Harry wanted to get there early to prepare and be ready to present one of the most important speeches of his career thus far. He planned on using the few extra days to squeeze in some last minute edits for the paper he was speaking on: “Advances in Sonogram Technology and its use in Diagnosing Transposition of the Great Arteries in Babies Prior to Twenty-Eight Weeks of Gestation”.  

Harry knew that, had he stayed in LA until the last minute, he would have gotten sucked into taking one or more emergency cases at Children’s Hospital. As it was, he’d left all his cases in the capable hands of Dr. Payne (and he couldn’t ever help sniggering at that name), and wrapped up his class at UCLA two weeks ago (god bless the academic calendar) so he was free and clear to spend the next 3 days focusing only on sonograms.

His mother and sister had been shattered, of course, that he wasn’t going to make it home to Lexington, MA for Christmas this year, but Harry had promised to carve some time out in March to see them. This conference was one of the most prestigious in the field, and they knew what an honor it was that this year he’d been chosen to present the keynote address. It was always an energizing experience, sure to be better this year because Niall, his best friend from medical school, would be in attendance too. Niall had been bombarding Harry with texts about all of the pub crawling plans he was making for him, making Harry shake his head in fondness. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

As Harry eyed the fuming ticket agent and exasperated mother, something unexpected occurred. Instead of continuing her tirade against the snippy agent, the young woman burst into tears. Total, complete meltdown. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re right, but my asshole of a husband just left me a week ago, two weeks before Christmas because he had to go ‘find himself’ in fucking Akron, and he never even would have told me except I found out that he cancelled his plane ticket when we were supposed to be coming to London for me to have this job interview and I don’t have anyone to help and I just forgot to check us in, and I’m so sorry I know it’s not your fault.” The woman stopped rambling and took a deep breath, tears still streaming down her face. While she caught her breath, the little curly haired girl in her arms burst into tears. Harry winced as the volume increased. He felt his heart clench at the pain in the mother’s voice and then, as the little girl started crying, he felt sympathetic tears spring to his eyes.

Fuck.

As the ticket agent glanced around the gate area, clearly in a total panic, Harry found himself on his feet, moving without even thinking about it. Carry-on in tow, he approached the desk and spoke calmly. “Hello,” he cleared his throat a bit self-consciously, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I could see how upset you were and was wondering, I have a window seat, and I’d be happy to swap around if that could be of any help?”

Harry could have kicked himself. Being in a center seat in coach for the ten and a half  hour flight to London was going to be more than uncomfortable, but he’d never been able to see someone in pain without wanting to help them feel better. Hazard of his job — or maybe just being raised right. The ticket agent was looking at him as if he were her saviour, and when he pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to the sobbing mother, she just stared helplessly at him. The little girl in her arms frowned at him and then poked her mother and pointed at his head.

“Curly,” she exclaimed in a surprisingly clear voice, “Mama!”

The young woman closed her eyes and took another deep breath, wiped her face with the handkerchief and gave Harry a tremulous, but grateful smile as her breathing started to even out. “I...thank you, so much. I can’t believe you’d do that.”

Harry shrugged, desperately hoping she wouldn’t think he was flirting with her. “Well, I’m just so sorry things are hard right now, no one deserves that.” He handed his boarding pass over to the ticketing agent, who began tapping through some different screens, and then looked up with a smile that transformed her dour face into something much warmer and more approachable.

“You’re in luck, sweetheart, there’s an empty seat next to his, and he’s in the bulkhead row, so we can get a crib for your little angel there too.”

The woman’s eyes filled again and she just whispered, “Oh my god, thank you.”

The ticket agent tapped some keys, printed out boarding passes and quickly ripped Harry’s baggage claim ticket off his old folder, stapled it to a new envelope and stuffed his new boarding pass into it and handed it over. “Here you go, Mr. Styles, I’ve got you reseated, here’s your new boarding pass and baggage claim. I’ve also credited your frequent flyer account with a bonus 5,000 miles, and I’m pleased to offer you some coupons for free beverages to say thank you so much for your generosity and help in this matter.”

Harry tucked the envelope into his pocket and jumped in surprise as he found himself the recipient of a tight hug from the young woman. “Thank you so much, I’m just so grateful, it’s been such a shit week, and you just really made a difference.”

“Shit week” agreed the toddler solemnly, and all three laughed.

“Oh my goodness, we need to get boarding started,” exclaimed the ticketing agent. She handed the woman her new boarding passes and said with a surprisingly warm smile, “Hang in there, and trust me, you’re better off without the bastard. Good luck on your interview, I know you’re going to do fine.” And with a firm nod, she turned away, and picked up the intercom to begin the boarding process.

As the crowd swirled around them, the young woman smiled again at Harry and said, “I just, thank you so much.”

Harry nodded, eager to get onto the plane. “It’s really my pleasure, and for what it’s worth, she’s right. Everyone deserves someone who loves them the right way. Good luck.”

Harry watched the young woman walk away, burdened with toddler, bags and papers, her young daughter staring solemnly at him over her mother’s shoulder.  They  were swallowed up in the crowd of people moving onto the plane and Harry exhaled slowly, glad to have been able to help.

He stepped back, deciding to wait a bit until the crowd dissipated. He pulled his boarding pass out of his pocket and glanced at it, frowning. 1H. That seemed like an awfully low number. Now Harry didn’t fly internationally all that often, but he’d flown enough to know that this was most likely a business class seat, which was an upgrade, a _significant upgrade_ , from his coach seat. He turned to say something to the ticketing agent, who caught his eye, dropped him a wink, and continued her speech into the intercom.

Well. Far be it for Harry to interrupt some poor woman in the midst of her work, when she clearly knew exactly what she’d done. He grinned, mouthed, “Thank you” and turned to head down the jetway and onto the plane, suddenly looking forward to this flight more than he had since booking it.

Airplanes always smelled the same, whether you were sitting in coach or, apparently, business class. The pumped air had a sterile, stale quality and there was a fake cheerfulness to the greetings offered by the flight attendants. Harry turned left instead of right and... there it was, seat 1H. It was the aisle seat for the right-hand pair of seats, and to Harry’s coach-class-trained eyes, it looked huge and comfy. The flight attendant smiled brightly as he paused, and said, “Do you need help finding your seat, sir?”

Harry shook his head and held out his boarding pass, wondering if this might be a mistake. “Um, no, I think I’m right here?”

She glanced at the slip of paper and nodded. “Yep, this is you. Here, let me take your bags and stow them overhead for you. My name is Nancy, and I’m the flight attendant assigned to the Business Class cabin, so anything you need, you just let me know.” She took his things from him and wrestled them into the overhead bin, and then said, “Why don’t you take your seat, sir. Would you like a drink before we take off?” Harry rummaged in his pocket for the coupons the ticketing agent had given him, but when he held them out, Nancy looked a bit confused. “Oh no, sir, beverage service is included in all business class tickets.”

Harry smiled sheepishly. “Is it that obvious that I normally fly coach?” He settled himself into the seat, and groaned in delight. For once, he might not get off a transatlantic flight with his back screaming.

Nancy smiled back. “Well, congratulations on your upgrade, sir. You just hold on to those coupons, they’ve got no expiration date, so you can use them on your next flight.”

She took a moment to show him how the seat reclined back to 160°, handed him a fluffy fleece blanket, a pillow and a gift bag. Peeking in, Harry noted some toiletries, and other swag like a sleep mask and a pair of fuzzy, grippy socks in a cheerful pink with green, yellow and purple polka dots. Harry grinned like it was, well, Christmas, pleased with his haul.

As Harry arranged his things around him, Nancy came back from the galley and set down a glass of champagne on the armrest with a wink, said “Enjoy. Once we’re under way, we’ll be starting the dinner service.” and moved back behind the curtain separating the cabin from the galley area and entrance to the cockpit.

Harry was comfortable. Insanely comfortable. More comfortable than anyone on an airplane deserved to be. He found himself thinking that he could get used to this, but probably shouldn’t, as he pulled out his phone to place it into airplane mode. He noted several texts from Niall, more links to London bars, and shook his head, smiling a bit. It looked like they should be closing the doors soon, and he hoped they’d be away from the gate on time. He pulled out his Kindle, and opened his book back up as he settled into the luxurious seat.

About 10 minutes later, an announcement came over the intercom. “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard Virgin Atlantic’s Flight VS12, with nonstop service from Los Angeles to London’s Heathrow Airport. We’re waiting on one more passenger who had a brief delay but should be boarding within the next 5 minutes. Once we’re all settled, we’ll be closing the doors and we should have you on your way to London.”

As the Captain’s voice droned on, Harry wondered what kind of person had the sort of clout to hold an entire flight because he hadn’t planned for LA traffic and was running late. Someone with money, for sure, and knowing this town, Harry thought with a bit of scorn, probably an industry type — LA was crawling with them. Harry scoffed under his breath and turned back to his book, rapidly becoming absorbed in the story. So absorbed, that, some time later, it took him a moment to realize there was a figure standing next to him, gesturing to the window seat.

“Excuse me, mate, I’m the window seat here.” The voice was soft, apologetic, and accented in something a bit unfamiliar — northern England, maybe, Harry thought.

“Oh,” Harry jumped to his feet and moved aside, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing there.”

The other man laughed as he swung a bag into the overhead compartment and slid into the seat. “You were well caught up in that book, mate. What are you reading?”

Harry paused, wondering how to explain the fact that he was reading an epic and x-rated romance that was the story of a relationship between a prince and the man he’d enslaved. “Oh, you know, just some fiction my sister recommended.” He turned to look at the man and froze.

Sitting next to him was Louis Tomlinson.

****

Louis Tomlinson, award-winning actor and screenwriter, was not having a good day.

He’d accidentally set his his alarm for 5:00 pm instead of the 5:00 am, leading to him waking up at 6:00 instead of 5:00, meaning he’d missed his 5:30 spin class and his trainer was going to ream him out. He’d had to scramble to finish packing and had a sneaking suspicion he might have forgotten to put on deodorant. He’d left his house in a rush, barely making it to the studio offices and managed to spill coffee down the front of his shirt.

He’d had tedious, boring meetings all that morning and then, when he’d actually managed to make it to LAX with time to spare, he’d been mobbed at the check-in line. They’d had to call extra security and hold the flight for him, and he was pretty sure, as he hurried down the jetway, that every single person on this very large airplane was going to think he was a narcissistic asshole. Which, in LA, he had to admit, was often a fair assessment. As he stepped into the plane, he made an effort to wind down his phone call with his manager.

“Yeah, Z, that sounds good, just send me the script, okay?”

“No problem Tommo. Have a good flight, good holidays and all that,” Zayn’s sleepy voice whispered through the line.

They disconnected and he handed his boarding pass to the smiling flight attendant who ushered him towards his seat. He stopped short. Sitting in the aisle seat, deeply absorbed in his Kindle, was perhaps the most attractive man Louis had ever seen, and Louis worked with people who were _gorgeous_ for a living. But this guy was something different. Louis could tell he was tall, and he looked like he was sporting a lean and toned body under his casual t-shirt and track pants. Track pants that did very little to hide the thick line of his cock.

Louis swallowed thickly as he took in the rest of the stranger’s appearance. He had glossy, thick curls in a rich chestnut shot with copper, and a jawline that could cut glass. But what set him apart from most of the people Louis worked with in Hollywood were the tiny imperfections. His eyebrows were a tad unruly, his skin was not covered with any sort of makeup, and he’d missed one spot on his jaw when shaving. He was attractive in a very real way. Entranced, Louis cleared his throat softly, hoping to get the man to look up so he could see his eyes. Maybe they’d be a warm brown, like his hair. Or what if they were blue like Louis’ own?

Clearly whatever the man was reading was fascinating. So fascinating, in fact, that it took Louis clearing his throat three times before he finally gave up and said, “Excuse me, mate, I’m the window seat here.”

“Oh,” the man raised his head from his book, clearly startled at having been yanked out of whatever world he’d been immersed in. He unfolded himself from the seat, and Louis gave a small internal cheer as he stood, clearly two or three inches taller than himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing there.” His voice was deep and slow, sexy in an effortless way.

He didn’t meet Louis’ gaze directly, denying Louis the chance to see his eyes, but the face in general, it was a lovely face, Louis thought a bit dreamily. He swung his  carry-on into the overhead bin, and laughed at himself.

“You were well caught up in that book, mate. What are you reading?” Louis slid himself into his seat, suddenly feeling more optimistic about this flight. He busied himself with buckling his seatbelt and getting his things arranged, nodding a cheerful thanks to the flight attendant as she handed him a glass of champagne.

The other man coughed and said diffidently, “Oh, you know, just some fiction my sister recommended.” He turned to face Louis, and Louis froze.

The eyes staring at him right now were bottle green threaded with yellow, like daffodils in a summer meadow, and Louis found himself caught in the magnitude of their beauty. As cheesy and cliche as it sounded, _as it felt,_ Louis was inexplicably drawn to the look in the other man’s eyes. There was just something about him.

Louis realized that they were just staring at each other, caught in the moment. But then, the silenced morphed into something else, something more familiar. And, oh shit. Louis thought to himself, _oh no, he knows who I am_. Just as he was starting to panic about being sat next to someone who might be a fan, or worse, an actor himself, the other man laughed.

“Sorry, I spaced out for a moment, I just...realized that I forgot to let my colleague know something about one of my patients.”

And just like that, Louis relaxed.

“Patient? Are you a doctor or something? You look awfully young to be a doctor, mate.”

The other man just smiled a bit wearily, as if he’d heard that a lot, and said, “Not really, but thanks, I guess?”

“No, really, that’s amazing. What kind of doctoring do you do?”

Louis didn’t quite catch the long stream of fancy words coming from the man’s mouth, too caught up in staring at his gorgeous plush lips, but jerked back to attention when he realised the man had finished his explanation and was asking, “And you?”

Louis scrambled to come up with a vague answer. “Oh, I, uh, I’m from England originally, but I work in...Hollywood.”

“Really?” the other man asked, something indiscernible creeping into his voice, “Well, I guess what, 80% of Los Angelenos work in the industry, huh? What do you do?”

Huh. Now, true, Louis had been hoping this man wasn’t going to fanboy all over him, but did he really not know _at all_ who Louis was? Louis chuckled inwardly at the fact that he was almost disappointed at the fact that the other man wasn’t fawning all over him. But, it was so rare that he had anonymity anymore, he decided that he might as well enjoy it. Playing along, Louis said, “Oh, you know, a little of this, a little of that. Just like everyone else, I suppose. But fuck, man, what did you say you did? That was a lot of big words.”

“I’m a pediatric cardiac surgeon.”

Oh. _OH_ . Pediatric. Louis could feel the fond expression on his face as he gazed at the other man. Gorgeous, smart, and he took care of sick babies. _Oh shit_ , Louis mused, he might actually be in real trouble here.

“Wow, that’s amazing, you take care of kids. And cardiac, that’s hearts, right?” Louis refrained from mentioning how he’d had a guest spot as an arrogant surgeon on Private Practice a few years back.

The other man smiled. “Yeah, I generally work with newborns, we often can diagnose heart malformations in utero, so we know what we’re dealing with, and we can get them repaired immediately before there’s more damage done.”

Louis raised one eyebrow and smiled, impressed. “That’s really amazing, mate. Well done.”

Oddly enough, at that, the other man blushed, and Louis thought he caught a flicker as the other man’s eyes dropped to his lips and then quickly swept back up to meet his own. Well now. Maybe this day was looking up.

****

As the next several minutes were lost to the business of taxiing safety instructions, and take off, Harry sat very still in his seat, trying not to glance repeatedly over at the man next to him. Louis _fucking_ Tomlinson. While Harry hadn’t had a lot of time over the last few years for entertainment, he also hadn’t been living under a rock. Even with school and then his career, he had seen a few of Louis’ movies, and had been consistently impressed with his skill as an actor.

And his _ass_ , but they weren’t mentioning that.

He might even have occasionally googled the man to see if he had any interesting projects coming up, and there was a slight chance he’d watched Louis’ coming out press conference. Maybe more than once. So sue him, that one moment, when Louis had been asked about whether he was concerned that coming out might hinder his career? He had simply raised one eyebrow and smirked into the camera, saying “If directors refuse to hire queer actors, there really aren’t going to be a lot of good options left,” and had deadass walked out of his own press conference? That moment was pure _gold_. Ballsy as hell, and Harry had been struck with genuine admiration for his actions. But now, confronted with the living, breathing reality of the man, Harry was a bit overwhelmed.

On-screen, Louis Tomlinson just seemed to shine. The cameras loved him, and he was genuinely one of the most talented actors of his generation. But off-screen, he was even more _alive_ — more of a _spectacle_ . His skin was glowing, a soft, warm tan color that Harry guessed came  from hours outside and a healthy diet, and just...happiness. His eyes were an electric shade of blue that seemed like they could pierce you with one glance. And his mouth, _god_ his mouth. Harry watched the way his lips formed around words and the way his soft, pink tongue darted out here and there to lick over the seemingly soft texture of his perfectly formed lips...it was a lot.

Harry flexed his hands into fists and forced himself to take a deep breath. Keep it together, he thought to himself, don’t want to scare the man away. Especially not now, not when Harry had a chance to get to know him, get to spend more than ten hours with probably the most attractive man he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Harry Styles.” Harry put his hand out and shifted in his seat, aiming for polite but hoping he didn’t seem too over eager.

The other man paused for a moment. “Lou- Luke. Luke...um...Thompson.”

Harry felt his mouth turn up in a smile. Ok. This is how they were going to do this then. “Nice to meet you... _Luke_.”

If Louis noticed, he didn’t show it. He took Harry’s hand and as their fingers tangled and palms slid together, Harry reveled in the warm comfort of it, but felt something more. Something a bit more... _arousing_. It had been a long time since Harry had slowed down enough to experience attraction to someone else. And here he was, a pawn of fate, sitting in first class on a transatlantic flight, next to this insanely good looking man. He felt a stirring inside of him that he hadn’t felt in some time. It may have extended to his dick, but that wasn’t really the point. The point was that his seatmate was attractive. And all his. At least for the next ten hours.

Louis pulled his hand away first, almost in slow motion. Harry nearly grabbed it back forcefully. There was just something about him, about the way he fit next to Harry, like he belonged there. Shaking his head, Harry slipped further down into his seat. “Um...so. Like, what are you traveling to London for?”

“Christmas, of course.” Louis’ voice sounded musical, like wind chimes or the beginning chords of a soft love song.

Harry nodded his head and closed his eyes as the plane started accelerating, preparing to take to the sky. He hated this part. The part where it felt like your stomach was going to fall out and drop to the ground like a thousand part weight, the part where the sound roaring in your ears made it feel like the improbability of flight was nothing more than a fantasy.

“All right?” Louis’ voice next to him was like a soothing balm, spreading over the most sensitive parts of him.

Harry turned his head and opened one eye, “Yeah. Just. Hate take off.” He forced himself to take a breath. To swallow. To calm his racing heart.

Louis slowly reached his hand back out. “You can hold my hand, err, if you want to,” he said diffidently,”You know, until we’re up in the sky.”

As Harry clutched at Louis’ hand, he watched his face light up like a freaking ray of sunshine, a face that had sold millions of movie tickets and probably twice as many posters. He held on as the pressure in his ears increased and increased until the plane leveled off, the intense gnawing in his stomach finally subsiding. He glanced down at their clasped hands and realized that he’d dug little crescent marks into the other man’s soft skin.

“Shit. Sorry.” He pulled away quickly, cheeks flaming.

Louis patted his knee once and whispered, “‘S’alright mate.” His hand left a burning impression through Harry’s trousers.

“Thanks.” The silence fell around them, a few errant coughs and papers rustling in the rows around them. “Hate that part.”

“It’s ok. Really.”

Harry looked over at Louis and found the other man staring at him. Something passed between them then. Something electric. Something cryptic. Harry felt his heartbeat pick up in anticipation of the next several hours. Anything could happen, couldn’t it? They had time.

****

Half an hour later, Louis felt like banging his head against the soft and cushy headrest on his seat. Despite that electric moment right after take-off, he and Harry hadn’t found a comfortable rhythm in their conversation yet. True, every time they started chatting, they’d been interrupted by Nancy, the most cheerful flight attendant that Louis had ever encountered. She’d clearly recognized him, but had heard Harry refer to him as Luke, and only an almost-imperceptible tightening around her eyes had let Louis know she wasn’t going to blow his cover. She’d taken drink and dinner orders, interrupted them to clarify a few things but was finally dropping off their meals, saying a bit inexplicably to Harry, “I think you’ll find this a pleasant surprise, Mr. Styles,” before whipping back behind the galley curtain.

Louis turned to Harry with a puzzled expression and Harry laughed, blushing a bit. “I don’t, um, yeah, I don’t normally fly business class. My hospital only pays for coach unless you’re one of the high level administrative guys, and I am definitely not that.”

Louis laughed and then paused. “Wait a minute, what hospital did you say you worked for?”

“I didn’t, but it’s Children’s Hospital in LA,” Harry mirrored Louis’ puzzled expression back to him. “Why?”

“Shit! I’ve done fundraising for them!” And, though Louis couldn’t mention it without explaining why he would be in demand to do so, he also spent one day a month, no matter his scheduling, visiting kids on the oncology ward. He’d demanded that no publicity be given for this in return for agreeing to appear at various fundraisers over the years. “Children’s is near and dear to my heart, man. My sister Doris had a rare…” his voice trailed off and he stared, eyes going wider, at Harry, and whispered, “she had a rare heart condition when she was born, and when she was 3 months old, my mum flew her to LA because the best surgeon in the world for this particular malformation is at Children’s.” Louis paused, the pieces clicking together in his mind. His voice was quiet and solemn when he continued, “Was that you, Harry? Did you save my sister’s life?”

Harry frowned. “I’ve been doing 300 surgeries a year for the last few years, Lu...ke, it would really depend on the type of…” his voice trailed off as Louis yanked his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling rapidly through photos, stopping on a picture of a woman holding a curly-haired toddler, grinning with Louis’ wild grin, both covered in face paint.

“That’s my mum and Doris now.”

As Harry looked at the picture, his face morphed into an expression of understanding, revelation. “Wait a minute, yeah, I remember her. Jane? Jen? What’s her name?”

“Jay,” Louis breathed, staring at Harry with something akin to awe, “Her name’s Jay.”

“Shit,” Harry breathed, transfixed at the beautiful smiles of the woman and child, “Wow, look at her! Doris looks great.” He turned to Louis, “I do remember them, because your mum was amazing. It’s one of the toughest moments of a parent’s life, open heart surgery on a newborn is no joke, but I remember her because she made me laugh, and,” he laughed, such a genuine and open laugh that Louis couldn’t help but smile in response, “That’s right, she sent me a Christmas card this year with a picture of Doris, covered in chocolate, and it said ‘Healthy enough to be getting into everything!’”

Louis’ heart was pounding, exhilaration and gratitude screaming inside his brain, flooding through his bloodstream as he spoke, slowly, remembering the pain of two years ago. “I was gutted because I was...err, on a job in Morocco and I couldn’t get back for the surgery, can you imagine? I might have met you 2 years ago!” Louis couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Harry Styles, the man who literally saved his sister’s life and changed the course of his family forever, was _this_ man, this incredible man, sitting right next to him.

“And, you said you do fundraising for them?”

“Oh yeah,” Louis looked down, hating the lie between them now, but not seeing any way out. “Um, mostly behind the scenes stuff, but I do go to their Ball every year.”

Harry stared. “I was at that Ball this year! The year before I was doing charity work in Central America, but I was there this year. Jesus, I can’t believe it! It’s almost like…”

“Fate.” Louis whispered, and Harry nodded.

From there, the conversation flowed between them as they ate. From books, to travel, to charity work, Harry proved himself a fascinating conversationalist, and often turned the topics back to Louis, offering witty and insightful commentary as they spoke.  When Harry spoke about his work, it was with such passion, such conviction Louis felt lost in it, in him.  Harry told Louis about the families he worked with, the research he did.  He told him about how immeasurable the happiness was when he was  able to save a life, make a difference.  He spoke with tears in his eyes when he talked about the babies he couldn’t save, they weren’t just cases to him — they were lives.  Futures.

Louis was intoxicated by Harry’s honesty, by his passion.  He was probably the most real, the most innocently authentic person he’d ever met.  At first, Louis had been taken by his gorgeous face — the perfect balance of femininity and masculinity — but now, now that they’d had time to talk, to discover each other, Louis found him to be _enchanting_ .  Intelligent and caring and just... _kind_. There was a goodness that emanated from him and it made Louis want to know him more, know him always.

Louis thought he might faint, or worse, pop a boner, when Harry ate his ravioli tongue first, a look of bliss crossing his face at the taste of the cream sauce.

“Man, Nancy was not wrong,” Harry gushed, “This is worlds away from what we get back in coach!”

It struck Louis again, as it had repeatedly over the years, that sense of separation he had from most people’s experiences. He hadn’t flown coach in forever, and more often than not, took private jets, some of which came with their own chefs. Without thinking, he mused, “It seems wrong, Harry, that someone like you, who has saved hundreds and hundreds of lives, that you’re flying coach, while I…” his voice trailed off.

But Harry just smiled as he sipped his Sauvignon Blanc. “Luke, don’t feel guilty about enjoying any success you’ve earned. Obviously,” an expression that looked almost guilty crossed his face, “I don’t know exactly much about your career, but you’re clearly really good at what you do, and there’s so many ways to give to the world. You seem to do so much with charity work, but also, entertainment matters too.”

Oh god. Smart, talented, hot as shit, and now _supportive_? Louis closed his eyes briefly, feeling the universe laugh a bit as he acknowledged that it was time to stop fighting it. He was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. Clearly the only thing left for him now was to enjoy the fall.

****

After dinner was cleared away, Nancy came back. “Well, gentlemen, we’re going to be dimming the cabin lights now, as most passengers try to get some sleep. Can I get you anything else?”

Harry glanced at Louis, who said, “Um, could I trouble you for another glass of that lovely prosecco? Harry and I have found out we have a long-lost connection, and we need to drink a toast to celebrate. That sound good to you, Harry?”

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d had more than 2 drinks in a day. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able just to sit and relax, to laugh and flirt with an attractive man (because it was undeniable, they were flirting, and _hard_ ), to get silly and tipsy. It had been far too long, and it was time to rectify that situation, and see where the night led. As the lights dimmed around them, he turned to Louis and said with a grin, “You’re on, Luke.”

When Nancy returned a moment later, however, instead of the glasses of prosecco they expected, she was carrying two empty glasses and the bottle. Without a word, she set their glasses down, expertly opened the bottle, filled their glasses, handed them over, set the bottle down, fixed them each with a stern eye as if to say “this is your chance, don’t waste it,” and walked away.

Harry stared after her for a moment, and turned to Louis, bemused. “Was that…?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Louis agreed.

“Well,” Harry lifted his glass, “To setting right the missed connections of the past.”

Louis lifted his glass, touched it to Harry’s and murmured, “To missed connections made right.”

By the time the bottle was empty, Harry’s head was spinning in the most lovely way. He and Louis were leaned into each other under the guise of keeping their voices low so as not to disturb the passengers around them. Apparently everyone else in business class had opted to go to sleep, and with no reading lights on, the cabin was even darker than normal.

“No!” Harry tipped his head back, stomach aching from laughing at Louis’ ridiculous story of moving to LA and not understanding the difference between the UK use of the word pants and the American use. “You seriously stripped...all the way down?”

Louis smirked into his glass, “Yup, the tailor came back and I was stark naked. To his credit, he didn’t blink an eye, simply said, ‘you might want to put your underpants back on sir, I wouldn’t want to pin anything...vital by mistake.’”

“Good man,” Harry nodded, blinking owlishly, “Good, good man. That would have been a tragedy of national, no, biblical proportions.”

Louis snorted at that, “Oh no, my dear Harold, I assure you, my goods aren’t worth quite that much.”

Without thinking, Harry turned and caught Louis’ gaze, “I beg to differ, Lou...ke.” The air between them suddenly felt molten and charged with a syrupy electricity that swam through Harry’s veins. Harry felt his breath catch at the way Louis’ eyes darkened as they dropped to his lips. A crash from the galley made them both jump, and the moment was lost. Harry gulped and looked down at his lap in an effort to focus on anything but the way Louis had just been looking at him. Like he wanted to _devour_ him.

Harry decided to effectively change the... _subject_...by suggesting, “So, um, what do you want to do? Want to watch a movie?”

Harry almost grinned at the brief look of panic that crossed Louis’ face. He didn't blame the other man one bit for lying about who he was, but things had progressed in such a way that Harry hoped they’d be able to clear the air. He had no idea if he was simply an utter fool to hope for more than just this night, but if this night was all he was going to get, he was determined to enjoy it. To make the most of it.

****

Louis’ head was delightfully floaty from the prosecco and all he could think was, Harry Styles was pretty. Like really, really pretty. Curls. Creamy skin and full soft lips. Those green eyes that were practically the definition of ‘bedroom eyes’. Even worse, he was genuinely an amazing person. Funny. Smart. Kind. Fuck.

The thing about being a bona fide movie star was that there wasn’t a lot of time for relationships. At least not real relationships — not ones born of PR dealings or quick frantic one night stands that needed things like ‘interventions’ and ‘damage control’ — but born of love and heat and laughter. Louis had learned — the hard way — that it really wasn’t worth it. So. He did what most movie stars did. He had a close friend or two that he got off with now and then, mostly when he was so lonely he couldn’t stand it; otherwise, he relied on his hand. And porn, of course. There was always porn.

The problem with Harry Styles was that he was making Louis reconsider everything he’d learned, been taught, about relationships in Hollywood over his years in that viper’s den. He made Louis feel reckless. Stupid with lust. The two things were not a good combination.

So. He had given the other man a fake name. Tried to keep any identifying details to himself. But the thing was, this connection rooted in a lie was the realest thing he’d felt in years.

There was one other issue as well. He was trying really, really hard to restrain himself, keep himself from launching himself across the gap between their seats into Harry’s space and attach his lips to his, run his hands down the other man’s impossibly long torso — grind down on what was probably the most amazing dick in the universe. Not to be shallow or anything, but the dude was huge — Louis could see that, just from the way he fucking bounced around in his thin track pants when the plane worked its way through take off turbulence. Louis was pretty sure Harry had forgone pants — underpants — today, and if that wasn’t absolutely _killing_ him. It was really fucking distracting. And hard to maintain any sense of self-control.

Harry’s voice was deep and low as he leaned over into Louis’ space and whispered, “So, um, what do you want to do? Want to watch a movie?”

Louis froze. He’d looked at the in-flight magazine and two of the five movies on offer were his, and there was no way he’d be able to keep up with the facade of Luke Thompson, regular guy, flirting with Harry Styles, regular guy. Regular guy who happened to be hotter than the fucking sun, and even more amazing on the inside.

Louis’ eyes darted around the cabin for a moment and then, “Ah! No screens! Bulkhead row! Guess we’ll just have to talk instead!” He internally swept a victorious hand across his sweating brow.

“What should we talk about?” Harry was suddenly very close, his breath ghosting over the side of Louis’ neck, hot and laced with alcohol. Louis wished they were somewhere else. Preferably on a dark crowded dance floor. Or a bed. Whichever.

“Um…” he looked up at Harry sitting close, momentarily lost in the other man’s eyes, swirling green and stupidly pretty. He smelled so good too. Like vanilla and leather and clean laundry. There was something lurking beneath the surface, something like the bitter tang of boy — clean sweat and sex. It was so attractive. Louis kind of wanted to just bury his face in Harry’s neck and just _sniff_. “Twenty questions?”

Harry’s mouth dropped open and then he closed it. He looked surprised, then intrigued, and he didn’t move away. He was close enough that Louis could see the blonde tint to that patch of stubble on the side of his jaw. Louis bit down on his lip to repress the urge to run his mouth over it, and noticed the way Harry’s pupils dilated at the movement.

“I’m game.” Harry’s voice dripped with innuendo and it took a second for Louis to realize he was making a joke.

“Well, aren’t you a funny one.” They were still close, maddeningly so. Louis thought that if anyone came by and looked at them they would probably think they were a couple. It made him feel warm, reassured. He’d like that.  And, wait a minute. _What the fuck_?

Harry smirked and tucked a bit of Louis’ fringe behind his ear. His fingers were large and warm, soft like fine linen. “‘M very funny. Some might even say I’m.. _.merry and gay._ ”

Louis groaned, another pun falling flat at their feet. “Oh god. You are the worst.” Louis had a moment though, where he internally fist pumped. Harry was definitely flirting then. Not that he’d had any questions. But still. Good to know.

“I’m actually _the_ best.” Harry was using this creepy cheeseball voice and was waggling his eyes like a weirdo that had Louis laughing like a hyena and clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound.

“Oh my god. Seriously. Give it a rest,” Louis breathed out heavy between gasps of laughter.

Louis couldn not remember a time in the recent past when he’d felt so light, so carefree. So happy. He hadn’t thought about the latest script or the promo he needed to prep for. He hadn’t thought about the contract negotiations he was in the middle of or the book offer sitting on his desk at home. He hadn’t thought about anything work related — anything Louis Tomlinson™ — in hours. He’d just been here, in the moment, over the Atlantic ocean with a pretty boy and free flowing champagne. And...it was nice.

“Me first.” Harry was smiling dopily and it took Louis a moment to figure out what he was talking about, the champagne fizzing through his bloodstream, making him feel giddy. “Twenty questions.”

“Oh right!” Louis smirked and sipped his drink. The more he drank the better it tasted. Funny that. “Ok. Go ahead.”

“How are we playing this? Are we playing...” Harry’s voice dropped an octave, making Louis’ cock twitch. “Safe? Appropriate? Or...not?”

 _Okay_.

Louis nodded his head and stared at Harry’s lips. They were really luscious. That’s a funny word, Louis thought. Luscious, Luscious, Luscious...Harry was luscious. Louis realized he was teetering on the edge of really losing it. It felt good to be a little careless and for some reason he felt safe enough to do it with the pretty stranger next to him. He was fun. Louis was having fun.

Fuck it. He threw caution to the wind. “It’s like you don’t even know me, Harry. Not safe. Not appropriate. Of course.”

“Well ok then.” Harry grinned an absolutely filthy grin, and made a big show of pretending to think of something for his twenty questions subject. He scratched at his jaw and looked up at the ceiling. Louis was enthralled. Fuck. He was gorgeous. Harry looked down then, right into Louis’ eyes. “I’m thinking of a sex position.”

“ _What_ ?” Louis sputtered, inhaling some of the champagne that was just under his nose, poised to be sipped. _What_?

“You heard me.” Harry was serious.

“Jesus, Harry. You can’t just…”

“What?” Harry widened his eyes and made an innocent pout with his mouth. “You’re the one who just sat there and said not appropriate!”

Louis sighed. “Ok. So. Um...a sex position?”

“Yes.” Harry settled back into his seat, legs drifting wide so that his knee and thigh pressed into Louis’. Louis pressed back. The heat was delectable. God. It made Louis just... _want_.

Louis swallowed, the dry click of his throat audible. “Um.” He was trying really hard to concentrate, to not lose himself completely in the shudder that was rising up his leg, through his groin and up his spine. “Is it missionary?”

Harry shook his head and and nudged Louis in the ribs playfully. “Tut tut, darling, you’ll have to do better than that,” he said grandly and Louis snorted. “That’s one.” His smirk was playful but his eyes were dark. A lovely combination.

Fuck. Louis was getting hard. “Ok. Is it, um...conventional?”

“Depends.”

“That’s not very helpful.”

“Not my problem.”

Louis watched Harry’s big hands run down the soft material of his track pants. His legs were so long. “Are we talking het or…”

“Luke. Luke, my boy.” Harry leaned closer, whispering dark and deep into his ear, sending chills shooting through his body. “I would never talk het.”

Goddamn. “Um.” Louis had no words because...maybe it was the four glasses of champagne, maybe it was finally feeling like he could be himself...maybe it was getting away, going home for a few days. But, mostly, he thought, he was fairly certain, it was Harry. Harry, who made him feel all giggly and quivery and sort of like a schoolboy with a mad, all-consuming crush. He left him speechless — something that rarely happened to Louis Tomlinson. He made him feel loose, relaxed, and really turned on.

It was something.

Suddenly, Harry burst out laughing, a pretty glow spreading across his high cheekbones. It was a deep barking rumble that spread out from his chest and into the air around them. It was boisterous and it made Louis laugh right along with him. “What?”

“You should —” more laughing, “see — your...face!”

Louis wrapped his hand around Harry’s wrist, feeling the way the bones there melded into his palm, hot and smooth. “You’re making fun of me.”

Harry smiled, soft and secret, “No, I would never. Just...You’re fun. I’m having fun.”

Louis leaned forward then, feeling Harry draw him in. He couldn’t stop looking at his lips and then back up to his gorgeous, expressive eyes, and Harry was looking right back at him with something like delight and wonder, mixed in with that darker gaze of lust, desire. Louis really wanted to kiss him. He knew, without a doubt in that moment, that Harry wanted the same.

This time, it was Harry who broke the spell. “Bathroom!”

Louis leaned back, startled. “What?”

“Have to, um…” Harry started shuffling out of his seat, taking his warmth with him. “Go to the…” he gestured over his shoulder, stumbling out into the aisle.

Louis watched him leave, feeling perplexed and more than a little flustered. He was hoping he wasn’t making a mistake. He was pretty sure he wasn’t.

****

Harry washed his hands and stared at himself in the mirror. There was a high flush of crimson smeared across his cheeks and his eyes looked glassy. He looked... _happy_ . Excited. He hadn’t felt this in such a long time. Harry was, well. He was career driven. Always had been. Being consumed with such a demanding career left very little time for... _play_. And, man, did he want to play with Louis. Or Luke. Whatever. He knew he’d crossed the line into outright flirting some time ago, but he couldn’t find it within himself to feel embarrassed. Louis Tomlinson was apparently an as amazing person on the inside as he was hot as fuck on the outside, and Harry wasn’t blind enough to deny the obvious attraction between them, and just the thought of him was enough to leave Harry half-hard and aching, without even having been touched.

He wasn’t sure what Louis was after but Harry was pretty sure that if Louis made a move, Harry wouldn’t stop him. Would invite him in like the priest to his Irish Catholic nan’s house for dinner. He might be crazy — but he wanted _something_ with Louis. There was a connection. And Harry didn’t want it to end. Drying his hands, he gave himself another once over, patting his hair down so that the wild tufts of curls were in some sort of order. As he exited the small bathroom, he gave thanks once more for the dim lights and the sleeping passengers, hoping the...situation in his track pants wasn’t entirely obvious .

Harry made his way back to his seat, but just as he was about to get settled, there was a sudden drop in altitude which pitched him forward and directly onto Louis’ lap.

“Oh my god” Harry gasped, cheeks flaming. “I am so sorry, Lou—ke, Jesus, are you okay?”

He shifted around, trying to find his balance to stand and get back to his own seat, when the plane dropped heavily again, grinding their groins together, and in that moment, Harry _felt_ it. Louis was hard. And, he was pretty sure, from the look on Louis’ face, that Louis could feel that Harry was in the exact same situation. Both men froze in the dark of the cabin, their faces lit only by the soft blue glow emergency lights, and even in that dim light, Harry could see that Louis’ pupils were blown wide open as he stared up at Harry, the want naked on his face.

Then, almost in slow motion, Louis’ hand moved, reaching up to cup Harry’s face in a movement so gentle, it took Harry’s breath away. His thumb traced gently along the cupid’s bow of Harry’s upper lip, and he took in a deep, shuddering breath at the touch. All of a sudden, Harry realized that every moment from the first instance he’d looked into Louis’ eyes, just a few hours ago, that it was all leading to this. Of course it was. Could you fall in love in an evening? Harry wondered, because it sure felt like something big was happening here.

He felt Louis’, no, he reminded himself, _Luke’s_ finger curve gently over his cheekbone and whispered, “Can I, Luke? Can I kiss you?”

He saw the gleam in Louis’ eyes as his mouth curved into a deep grin and he whispered back, “I thought you’d never ask, Harry.”

As Harry leaned down to join their mouths together, he had a sudden flash of intuition - this moment was important. This moment mattered, it was crucial somehow. This moment might change everything to come afterwards. But then, their lips connected and the feeling was vaporized, lost in the sensation between them. Harry pressed firmly against Louis, testing and tasting the other man, gently at first, and then the kiss shifted to something deeper, and darker, and far less appropriate for a public space.

Louis’ hips shifted where Harry was pinning him to the seat, and Harry swallowed a groan, trying to remember that they weren’t in private. “Lou...Luke,” he whispered, his voice husky with need, “Jesus, we can’t do this here.”

Louis’ eyes opened slowly and he looked almost drugged. “Fuck,” he muttered and ran a hand across his eyes, “Shit, yeah, you’re right.”

With reluctance, Harry moved back into his seat, and he and Louis locked eyes for a long, heated moment.

Louis finally broke the silence with a laugh, “Well, that was. Fuck, Harry, that was incredible.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but was silenced as Nancy popped out from behind the curtain and said, “Want me to help you get your seats laid...back, gentlemen?”

Harry flushed, imagining if she had come out just a few moments earlier. They both stood, and Nancy quickly got their seats into the nighttime position, and laid out blankets for them. And then, without a word, she carefully folded the armrests down so there were no barriers between the seats, and left to help another customer.

Louis snorted. “You think, um, think she knows?”

Without meeting his eyes, Harry sighed. “Yeah, I think maybe she does.” He climbed into the bed-chair and pulled the blanket up over his body. Next to him, Louis did the same, and then curled onto his side to face Harry.

“So, are we...going to talk about this?”

Harry thought he might just die on the spot. A man who wanted to communicate _and_ he was hot as fuck?

Harry turned to face him. “Um, okay? What do you want to talk about?” His mind was still reeling from the moment. _I kissed Louis Tomlinson. I_ **_kissed_ ** _Louis Tomlinson. With_ **_TONGUE_ ** _. And wow, do I want to keep doing it..._

“Well,” Louis laughed a bit self-deprecatingly, “I don’t know about you, mate, but that was blistering hot for me. I haven’t been kissed like that in…” his voice trailed off and then he said softly, “In a long time, Harry. Maybe ever.”

 _Never_ , Harry’s treacherous mind helpfully informed him. _You’ve never had a kiss like that before._

“So, yeah, me either,” Harry acknowledged, breathing out in relief, because it was true. He couldn’t remember the last kiss he’d had like that. So _scorching_. So full of meaning. Louis reached out and snagged Harry’s hand, holding it across the gap.

“So, as I see it,” Louis said thoughtfully, “we have a couple of options. We can pretend it didn’t happen and sit in awkward silence for the next 6 hours; we can say, ‘well, that was interesting, I never do that sort of thing’...and sit in awkward silence for the next 6 hours; or..” His voice trailed off and Harry swallowed, feeling a thrill in his gut, and if he were being honest with himself, a bit lower as well.

“Or?” He prompted softly, his voice rough.

“Or,” Louis said, his own voice deep and hoarse, “You could slide on over here under the blanket with me, and we could finish what we started.”

Harry lifted his head and stared at him, wide-eyed, and then made the only possible decision a reasonable man could have made under these circumstances.

Harry slid.

****

Louis’ heart was beating like a freight train ramming its way through his chest. The boy next to him, this gorgeous, gorgeous man — a pediatric heart surgeon, for god’s sake — was sliding in next to him, lips parted, eyes glazed over, long limbs folding around his like they were the missing appendages he never knew he needed.

“I —”

Louis stopped the words from falling out of Harry’s pretty mouth by closing his lips around the other man’s full, sweet mouth. Harry tasted like the champagne they’d drunk and a little like cream sauce from Harry’s dinner. But he also tasted like longing and comfort and something like fierce desire. It ignited something primal under Louis’ skin that caught fire as they brought their tongues back together.

Harry kissed like he talked. Slow and purposeful, with an undercurrent of teasing. He bit playfully at Louis’ bottom lip and rolled his tongue so sinfully that Louis' hips twitched up with each lick made into his waiting mouth. Harry’s hands were on Louis’ face and then on his shoulders and then on his hips. Louis swallowed a long, deep sigh and tangled greedy fingers in Harry’s hair, tugging lightly to get Harry’s head positioned exactly where he wanted it.

If they’d had time — space — Louis would have spread Harry out like the gift he was and taken him apart, bit by bit, to delight in the way the other man sounded, tasted, felt...As it was, he was nearly delirious and not a little light-headed from the way his blood was rushing south with every pass of Harry’s tongue against his. It was hot and fast and, given their location, _entirely forbidden_ — making it that much more unrelenting, _necessary_.

Harry came up for air and moved his mouth down Louis’ jaw, toward his neck. Louis’ skin was crawling with the intense need to feel Harry on him, all over him. Harry’s teeth scraped over Louis’ pulse point and, he couldn’t help it, he bucked his hips into the air and groaned, immediately clamping a hand over his own mouth.

“S — sorry. I — _fuck_.” How someone’s mouth could be so enticing, so powerful, to draw the noises, the feelings, the complete and total sense of recklessness from him was beyond Louis. He just knew he felt unglued from the feeling of Harry’s mouth on his skin. And he needed more.

Harry looked up at Louis, his hair a mess around his flushed face and his mouth a deep claret red. “Lou..ke. Can I? Can I blow you?”

Louis bit back a moan and felt the tell-tale seeping wetness over the crown of his cock. _God_. He wanted that sinful mouth on him, swallowing him down. But. They were on a plane. An airplane where anyone could see them for god’s sake. Louis raised up on one elbow to look around quickly, eyes darting at the other rows. He couldn’t really see anyone, which, hopefully meant no one could see them. The entire plane was bathed in darkness, nearly all the passengers sleeping.

Fuck it.

“Yes. _Fuck_ . Yes, please. I’ll be — _oh fuck_ — I’ll be quiet.”

Harry crashed their mouths together, his tongue insistent and so, so good fucking into Louis’ mouth. He could tell that Harry was a very thorough and generous lover. It made him feel bittersweet, again, that they weren’t somewhere else for this, their first encounter.

 _First_.

God. He hoped it would be the first of many.

He couldn’t really think about that anymore because Harry had slipped his hand under the blanket and was fitting it around Louis’ hard and straining cock.  “God, you are so…”  Harry was breathless as he mouthed at Louis’ neck, his jaw, the slip of collar bone that peeked out from beneath his shirt.  Harry’s tongue was quick and clever, soft strangled moans passing between them.

Louis bucked up into the warmth of Harry’s hand, the perfect fit of it, and bit back a groan. Jesus.  If his hand felt this good, imagine what his…

Harry disappeared under the blanket and Louis threw his head back in anticipation.  Holy fuck.  So they were doing this then.  They were really doing this.  

He could feel Harry fumbling with his flies and Louis felt a desperate heat flood his bloodstream.  He was dying with the fierce need burning in his chest and...lower.  He bucked his hips up and wriggled so that Harry could pull his cock out.  The sensation of hot breath ghosting over him was almost too much.

“Shit…” Harry breathed out reverently, muffled from under the blanket, so quiet Louis almost couldn’t hear him, “You’re — _christ_ . Have to get my mouth on you.   _Jesus_.” The words were whispered against his shaft, making Louis shiver.  And then, finally, finally, finally Harry took Louis in his hand. Louis felt a delicious tug in his groin and a furious heat building at the base of his spine.  He bit his lip to hold in the moan that so desperately wanted to escape.

“Here.” Harry’s head popped out from under the blanket, eyes dark but sparkling in the near blackness, hair standing on end in a way that would be comical in most situations but, here, now, it was just incredibly hot. He put three of his fingers against Louis’ bottom lip, pushing them inside. “ _Suck_.”

Harry Styles might be the death of him. He was imagining the headlines, “Louis Tomlinson, Oscar Winner, Dies Above the Atlantic During a Romantic Tryst. Cause of Death? Hotness Overload.”

The daydream fizzled out in his brain as he sucked hard on the thick fingers invading his mouth at exactly the same time he felt a warm, wet, suction surround the head of his cock. And. _Oh. My. God_.

Harry’s mouth was...fucking incredible. Sensuous rolls of the tongue paired with long haphazard licked stripes searing up and down his shaft, alternating with an almost unbearably tight suction as Harry bobbed his head up and down, up and down. And. It made Louis see bright white stars behind his eyelids as sparks shot up and down his spine and heat pooled low in his groin…

Harry popped off, the wet slurp of it muffled under the fleecy blue blanket.  His head appeared again, face flushed and sweaty. “Feel good?” he rasped.

Louis could hardly believe his eyes. The other man looked completely _debauched_ . His hair was wild around his face and his chin and mouth were shiny with spit. Harry straightened up and braced himself on one arm, leaning over Louis’ body.  He shoved his pants down roughly so that his cock was freed as he took his spit slick fingers from Louis’ mouth and started fucking rhythmically into his own wet fist. He looked _relieved_ at the contact, nearly euphoric at the wet slide of his own hand on his rigid dick and...and...that was...really fucking hot.

Harry looked like he was genuinely getting off on getting Louis off. And wow. That made Louis want to be _good_ for the other man. He wanted to be good and to help the other man feel as good as he was making him feel. He wanted to spend some serious time making Harry feel good. Eons, if he could. Or at least the next fifteen minutes since it didn’t look like either of them were going to last very long.

“Y — yeah. ‘S good. Really good.” Louis’ own voice was shaky as he whispered his response, his cock dripping with pre-come now, aching for release. Watching Harry get himself off was quickly bringing Louis to the edge.

Harry made a face and pulled his hand out of his pants. He shoved his fingers back in Louis’ mouth, the taste of cock, _Harry’s cock_ heavy and sharp.  Harry sounded insulted when he whispered fiercely, “You can still talk. Not good enough.”

Louis balked in surprise but, again, any rebuttal or thought was pushed out of his brain as Harry swallowed him down again, this time going further so that Louis’ cock nudged at the back of his throat. Louis threw his head back, sucking hard at Harry’s fingers, making the other boy squirm in his seat and moan around his cock. Louis was distantly aware that they were probably being too loud and god forbid anyone heard them — realized who he was — but he was so far gone now he couldn’t stop himself.

The perfect white hot heat of Harry’s mouth had Louis reeling, hurtling toward release like a comet in the night sky. He ran his tongue over Harry’s fingers, and all of a sudden it hit him. This man, currently sucking his cock like his very life depended on it, had held his baby sister’s heart in the very fingers he was currently sucking. The hand wrapped around the base of his cock saved lives, offered healing and comfort, and now, here it was, giving him some of the most intense pleasure he’d ever known, and who was to say, maybe saving his life too. This thought put him over the edge. He blazed, hot and unbridled, while Harry sucked him down and took his cock like he owned it, sucking, swallowing, licking and then, with a gentle scrape of teeth just below the head, at the most sensitive spot, Louis’ vision whited out and he came, biting down on Harry’s fingers with a stilted groan.

“Nngh! Harr — !” The harsh sound of Louis’ cut-off whisper, escaping from around Harry’s hand, cut through the heat that surrounded them while Harry swallowed down his release, his own soft muted moans circumventing the edges of the blanket.

While Harry brought him through his orgasm, Louis watched, mesmerized, as Harry’s hips rolled in a poetic dance of lust and need, the hard line of his cock showing beneath the thin fabric of his pants. Louis wanted — _needed_ — to get his hand around him before he shot off like a firecracker, stealing the _privilege_ right out from under from him. There was no time to catch his breath. There was only time to get his hands on Harry. Now.

****

Nothing turned Harry on more than sucking cock.  He was proudly, and unabashedly, a _cocksucker_ . He loved the feeling of power it gave him and revelled in his ability to give another man so much pleasure with just his mouth. And, while he didn’t get to do it as often as he liked, when he did have the chance to... _indulge_...he did so wholeheartedly.

Louis’ cock was on a whole other level from any other’s he’d seen, felt — let alone, _sucked_ — before.

It was fairly dark in the cabin, but the emergency lights cast enough of a ghostly blue glow over their seats that Harry could just barely make out the line of Louis’ freed cock under the blanket. What he couldn’t see, he could _feel_ and he could tell.  It was pretty.   Cocks, in general, were not very pretty things. But, Louis Tomlinson’s cock was as pretty as the rest of him. It was heavy in Harry’s hand and soft. The feel of it was like satin under his palm and Harry could feel the wetness spreading at the head as well as the way a thick vein traveled up the underside.  It fit perfectly in his hand and god...Harry could not wait to taste him.

Harry dove under the blanket, taking care to cover his head and Louis’ exposed body.  “Shit…” Harry couldn’t contain the awe that crept into his voice, the smell of Louis was so strong under the blanket, it was thick, heady, sensual.  It was consuming Harry. “You’re — _christ_ .  Have to get my mouth on you.   _Jesus_.”  Under the cover of the blanket, he couldn’t quite see much of anything, but going by feel, this was one of the most incredible cocks he’d ever encountered. The scent of him, the heft in his hand, it was...a lot.

The first lick over Louis’ slit was unreal.  He tasted…. Fuck. It was like sucking down some kind of cosmic nectar. It made Harry’s head reel.

Nothing turned him on more than sucking cock. He loved it. And his body had a visceral response to it. He was close. His body pumping into a phantom fist--mouth--ass--something. He could probably come untouched, he was so turned on by the danger of taking Louis’ Tomlinson’s cock down in a fucking airplane with people all around him.

He was a respected — _world renowned_ — surgeon. And, here he was, giving a famous actor (who was very much not wanting anyone to realize his identity, not even the guy tipping him over into an obscene state of bliss) a blowjob.

It was a lot.

When Louis came, body tightening underneath Harry, mouth biting down on Harry’s fingers harshly, Harry hummed in happiness, swallowing down everything Louis gave him.  It was so _good_...making Louis feel good like this.  Harry hoped they were being quiet, but couldn’t quite be sure with the way his head was roaring and his own cock was twitching in his pants from the unbearable need to come.  Harry kept Louis deep while he shot his load, licking around the shaft as best as he could while keep a tight pressure around him.  Louis’ entire body was an inferno, burning up under, around Harry.  It got under Harry’s skin, all that heat, and threatened to engulf him fully, without compromise.

Without even realizing it had happened, Louis had shoved himself back into his pants, hissing at the rough sensation of it, and had pulled Harry back up to kiss him again. He plundered Harry’s mouth with his tongue, moaning wantonly, albeit quietly, into the kiss. Harry never knew how guys felt about the taste of their own come. Harry himself was fond of his own — but that was a...personal preference, and one, it seemed, that Louis shared. Then he broke the kiss and licked his hand, staring deep into Harry’s wide eyes.

God. His mouth. Harry wished he had time to do more with Louis’ mouth.

Then Louis yanked Harry on top of him and squeezed his small, hot, wet hand into Harry’s pants, his grip tightening desperately around his cock. “Come on, Harry. Come for me. Need to make you feel good, c’mon, babe, come for me...” he licked into Harry’s ear, his breath hot and insistent, “ _Come on_.”

Harry pumped his hips forward, driving into Louis’ fist, the urgent slide of it a little painful but so good, _blindingly_ good. Louis’ breath was hard and fast in his ear and his other hand had sneaked its way into the back of his pants, beneath the blankets. Thank god for the blankets.

Harry felt a dry finger slide down his crack and rub against his hole. The promise of it was too much and Harry came, hard and shuddering within the tight fist of Louis’ hand, the other man whispering filthy things in his ear about how hot he was, how good he sounded, how fucking obscene his mouth was, how much he wanted to fuck him…

Harry wanted all of that. Possibly all the time. Probably forever.

As they both lay there in the aftermath, shaking and cooling under the stifling blankets, Harry found himself thinking that if this were another world, another place, maybe they could actually be something. Make this work. He kissed up Louis’ neck and found his mouth again, a bit like coming home, the kiss sweet and tender, passing unspoken words between them like breath, like air.

Louis fumbled for the fancy facial wipes that were in their swag bags and cleaned up, first Harry and then himself. Harry wriggled his pants back over his hips and snuggled closer to Louis. Louis wound one arm around the other man’s shoulders, Harry swung one leg over Louis’ and an arm around his waist, and they folded together like origami.

The beating of Louis’ heart swelled in Harry’s ear like a metronome and Harry found himself entranced by the sound, and even more so by the man. As his eyes slipped closed and his consciousness faded Harry reminded himself that sometimes, even in the most unlikely of places, love can blossom. He should know, he thought, more than anyone, what the human heart is capable of.

***

Louis blinked his eyes open to a bright light beckoning to him from somewhere in the far away. He was hot, though not uncomfortably so, and for a moment, couldn't remember where he was. Something heavy was holding him firmly in place, but rather than feeling trapped, he felt safe, secure.. For Louis, his entire life often felt transient. He was always on the move — living out of suitcases and traveling around the world for shoots, promotional tours...award shows. His life was glamorous, sure, but felt unsettled at times, and he often craved stability. Putting down roots. Staying still.

Harry was spread across him, heavy and immobile, like a dead weight. It felt good to wake up with someone, no, with _Harry_. Louis smiled and squinted toward the light. A few rows behind a passenger had opened their window shade. The light felt almost artificial it was so pure, like only the light from thousands of feet above the earth could look.

Bright. Clear.

Louis realized, with a start, that he wanted that. He wanted that brightness and clarity in his life, and, for the first time in a long time, he felt a kind of translucent comprehension invade his mind.

 _Harry_.

A beautiful stranger, sat next to him on a plane. Could it be? Was it really this easy?

“Hmmm.” The man in question stretched out like a cat, long limbs and mussed hair everywhere, lines from Louis’ shirt pressed into his cheek.

He was beautiful.

“Oh! Um...sorry.” Harry pushed away slowly, lifting his head from Louis’ shoulder, wiping at a small patch of drool. He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Louis rolled to his side so they could look at each other. “No worries.”

Harry blinked his eyes slowly, reminding Louis of the way the sun rose over the English countryside — all muted greens and pinks, soft lines and dewy edges. Stunning. “Sleep well?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Better than I have in weeks, if I’m honest.”

“Yeah?”

“Hm.” Harry took a deep breath and laced their fingers together. He looked at Louis again, bright green eyes searching his. “Last night was…”

“Incredible.” Louis finished for him. Because it was. More than a one off. Definitely more than just a way to pass the time.

The lay there and grinned at each other like 5 year olds who had just discovered how to make paper airplanes. Simple.

“We should, probably...you know…” Louis began, tangling and untangling their fingers between them.

Harry smiled and leaned forward, rubbing their noses together. “Talk?”

Louis nodded once, closing his eyes. He didn’t want this moment to end. Didn’t want the plane to land. Definitely didn’t want to say goodbye to Harry. So he just breathed. Inhaled the fresh clean scent of Harry. They shared each other’s breath for a moment or two and when Louis opened his eyes again, Harry was already waiting for him, green eyes patient and kind and so, so honest.

Fuck.

“I —” Louis began, looking for courage. Looking for words to describe the complexity of improbable emotions he was feeling at the moment. Just as he was about to continue Nancy popped up.

“Ah! So glad to see you are awake. We are about to prepare for landing. Didn’t want to wake you two sleepy heads until the last possible moment. Let me…” she gestured at the seats.

The two men disentangled from each other reluctantly, Harry moving to the aisle, Louis excusing himself to the bathroom. As Nancy set about righting their seats and clearing away the rubbish, Louis looked over his shoulder and saw Harry staring after him, the look on his face unreadable.

Louis felt his heart twist in the first inkling of agony. This was going to be harder than Louis thought.

****

They waited until they couldn’t wait anymore. All of the other passengers had exited and the flight crew had begun cleaning up each aisle and seat methodically. Nancy was, thankfully, giving them a moment of privacy. But even Harry knew they couldn’t stay here forever. Even though he wanted to.

Waking up next to Louis had been — _nice_. More than nice. It had been calm. Tender. Warm. He had been flooded with a barrage of unexpected emotions. Harry had had a few one night stands in his life — fewer as the years have gone on, but still. He couldn’t ever remember waking up next to someone that he spent a random night with feeling so...comfortable and familiar. So right.

Which made him think. Maybe this wasn’t so random.

As a man of science, Harry worked in absolutes. He knew about cause and effect, knew about the _seemingly_ miraculous ways of medicine. There were no miracles about it. People studied hard, worked harder and made miracles _happen_ . He’d never believed in fate before. Before he started working with infants — in utero. Because _that_? That was a whole other ball game. With babies, and mothers who desperately wanted to protect them — would do anything to save them — there were miracles every day. Granted, Harry still believed that his hard work and research had a lot to do with the lives he saved. But he knew there was something else at play. Something he couldn’t even begin to understand.

That’s how he felt about Louis.

Meeting Louis yesterday wasn’t a fluke. How could it have been? He’d felt connected, drawn to him from the minute he sat down. And, if he hadn’t switched seats, if the woman he helped yesterday hadn’t needed him to switch seats...well, then. They might not be here. Harry couldn’t tell if it was random or a very purposeful twist of fate, but here he was. He’d ended up in this beautiful blue eyed man’s arms and he never wanted to leave. But all things come to an end, and the flight had landed. It was time to go.

Nancy finally descended upon them. “Gentlemen…”

“Right,” Louis said, sitting up, avoiding Harry’s gaze.

“Right…” Harry repeated.

Harry led the way, taking his bags from Nancy, thanking her quietly as he exited toward the jetway. He could hear Louis behind him, wheels of his case rolling and the soft scuff of his shoes on the indoor/outdoor carpet like a death march in his mind. As he neared the end of the walkway, he turned to find the other man directly behind him, already stopped.

Harry crumpled into Louis’ arms and sighed. Louis ran his hands up and down Harry’s back comfortingly. “I just want to say — “

Louis stopped him by bringing their lips together. He kissed him slowly, softly, just the barest meeting of tongues and the smooth, perfect glide of lips. Harry pulled away and gave him a small smile. “You sure do like to interrupt people by kissing them.”

Louis grinned and cradled Harry’s cheek in his hand. “Not just any people. Just you.”

And that. That made Harry’s heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. Louis felt the same. But. It was impossible. Louis — well, he was still Luke to Harry. He hadn't felt like he could tell Harry the truth yet and Harry wasn’t going to be the one to press it.  There was something holding Louis back and Harry couldn’t help but feel like it had to do with how completely different their lives, their worlds, were.  How could they have a future when Louis lived the life he lived? For a brief moment in time, Harry hoped, Louis had been allowed to be himself, and not some idealized version of Louis Tomlinson, the actor. He hoped that Louis knew that Harry accepted him for who he was.  He was trying to put that exact sentiment into words when Louis spoke.

“Let’s not...let’s not ruin this, alright?” Louis said in that soft cadence of his, like jingle bells or twinkling piano keys.  His voice alone was heartbreaking to Harry, knowing this might be the last time he heard it for himself, just for him. “Let’s just know that we shared it. And it was...so, so good.”

Harry smiled and kissed over Louis’ mouth once, twice and then one last time for good measure. “It was. Such a good thing.”

Louis closed his eyes and squeezed Harry close one more time, pressing Harry’s face to his shoulder. Harry felt the enormity of what had passed between him then.  He didn’t want just one night.  This was something he would have held on to forever, if he could have,  and he knew now that he’d keep this memory locked within him, safe and secret, for the rest of his life. Because the memory was all he was going to get to keep.  And now, he had to let Louis go.  Harry hugged back, fierce and tight, trying to ignore the desperate way his heart clenched in his chest. “Goodbye, Louis.”

“Bye Harry.”

And then, Harry pushed away and turned quickly, afraid that if he waited any longer he wouldn’t leave. And that would make it worse. It would make everything worse. So he walked away quickly, leaving Louis behind, in the bright light of a rare sun-drenched London morning. And, as he wiped away one lone tear, he walked into the bustling airport, trying to forget the burn of bright blue and the feeling of soft perfect skin under his.

****

“Fuck,” Louis whispered to himself, watching Harry disappear from sight. That was _awful_. The desperation of saying goodbye to something you never really had was...well, devastating. He’d thrown his hail mary, all that was left to do was wait.

Louis waited for the go ahead from the concierge who had emerged from the end of the tunnel and he was ushered quickly to a back room designated for flight attendants, pilots and other key airline staff. He waited there for a few minutes for his London security detail to approve the exit route and he followed them grimly through a series of back hallways designed to make travel around the busy airport quicker for airline staff but also for celebrities like himself. He was able to get in and out of most airports without being seen if he didn’t want to. Or didn’t have something to promote.

He trudged behind two big beefy airport security men while being followed by his own personal security detail. He played over the events of yesterday and last night leading up to just now when he said good-bye to Harry in the jetway. Tragic. Like Romeo and Juliet, he thought dramatically.

Except.

Harry had called him _Louis_.

Harry had called him _Louis_ , which meant…

That _bastard_.

A smile spread across Louis’ face as he quickened his step. That gorgeous, kind, fucking _amazing_ bastard.

He had called him Louis.

****

Harry hailed a cab and pulled out a pair of sunglasses from his messenger bag as he slid into the backseat. The glasses were as much for the sun as they were to hide his teary eyes. This was exactly why Harry didn’t make time for relationships. This was the exact reason why. Heartbreak.

Who has time for heartbreak? He thought. Certainly not him.

“Sir?” The cab driver called over his shoulder as he eased them into traffic, “the ride to the hotel is about thirty minutes today with traffic.”

“Thank you,” Harry responded politely. He pulled out his kindle, wanting to pass the time and try to forget about what and who he just left behind.

He powered it on, expecting to see the story he’d been reading yesterday when Louis had boarded next to him. Instead, he was surprised to see the notes app open on his screen. Strange.

And then, he laughed. Aloud, one note bark of a laugh that had him clapping his hand over his mouth in delight — and embarrassment. Because, because, there on the screen were the words:

_Harry--I’m hoping you will say yes to joining me for dinner as soon as you’re free. I know you’ll be working, but it would be a shame if we never got to see each other again. Also, I’m keen to finish our twenty questions game. Need to know what sex position you had in mind. Please call….x_

_Luke (although some people call me Louis)_

Smirking, Harry pulled out his phone and entered the number that was in the message, labeling it Hot Luke with an airplane emoji.

Grinning from ear to ear, Harry leaned back in the seat and watched London slide by outside the window. As cliched as it sounded, the world seemed like a better place this morning, warmer and brighter somehow. How funny that a twist of fate would bring to the man — who thought he knew everything about the human heart — a person like Louis, who simply by being who he was, had already shown Harry how much more there was to learn.

And Harry couldn’t wait to get started.

**Author's Note:**

> Authors love notes! Let us know what you think. Thanks. xx


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